


Flicker

by apocatits



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU kind of, Bottom Harry, Depending on how i decide to end this, Dom/sub Undertones, Draco is a mysterious creature that no one knows about, M/M, Mystical Creatures, Possessive Draco Malfoy, Protective Draco Malfoy, Slow Burn, Top Draco Malfoy, and so is Harry, but it all makes sense in the end, but like only in the start of the relationship, endangered creatures, first time writing Drarry so cut me some slack, there may be some gore at some point, you'll understand why
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-08-06 12:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16388021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocatits/pseuds/apocatits
Summary: Draco Malfoy has always lived a dark life. Yes, during and briefly after the war his life was dark for obvious reasons, but Draco’s life has always been dark.





	1. Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy has always lived a dark life. Yes, during and briefly after the war his life was dark for obvious reasons, but Draco’s life has  _ always _ been dark. He has never known what it’s like to feel silk caress his skin, or to count the colours that make up a sunset. All his life, he has seen nothing but shades of blacks and greys. He has felt nothing but blacks and greys. He has tasted nothing but blacks and greys. His entire life has been blacks and greys.    
  
As a child, his parents seeked famous mediwitches and healers alike in hopes to find a cure for his darkness. “There is always a spell or a potion” is what his father would growl every time they were given the same inconclusive answer. During the beginning they all had hope. His mother would constantly buy several different fabrics and scents, hoping that one would activate some kind of sense within him, but it never happened. His father would spends hours and hours and  _ hours _ reading and yelling at books, determined to cure his son of whatever has caused such a sad life. This, over time, caused a divide between them. Even now, Draco isn’t sure how, but he knows when it happen.    
  
It was 1991.   
  
Draco was living his life as he always had. Surrounded by muffled voices and blacks and greys. Blaise was talking about something absurd and Pansy was most likely painting her nails and complaining about her closet. None of them understood exactly what Draco lived like. They never really asked what it was like to only see in monochromatic. In all honesty, Draco is sure they didn’t really care. He was figure head to them, after all he is a Malfoy.    
  
It first happened when he was looking at the door of their cart, and a flicker happened. Just a short flicker, but not any flicker. Not like if you were to turn off a light, or a candle in the dark. This was an amazing flicker. A kaleidoscope of colours hit him for barely second, but it colours and noises and smells. It was the most wonderous second of his life.   
  
He remembers yelling, and smiling and look at his friends with widest and most goofy grin on his face because he seen and felt what they live everyday. He wasn’t in the dark for that one second, he was normal. He was not Draco or a Malfoy, he was normal boy who seen reds, and blues and greens.    
  
“Did you see that? All those… those colours? Did you--did you smell it?” He can still see the confused expressions on his friends faces. The way Pansy tilted her head and smiled so oddly, as if he had two heads. And Blaise, Blaise just laughed and shook his head.    
  
And that was last time he flickered until  _ Madame Malkin's Robe shop _ .    
  


He was in the middle of bragging about he could get his father to buy him anything. Of course, no one exactly knew why Lucius Malfoy would buy his son anything. How could his father say no to his only child who can’t experience life in colour? His peers were hanging on to every word he said, and he was loving the attention because it wasn’t about his sight or his tastes or his sense of smell, it was just about him being fortunate to get anything he wanted.    
  
And then he flickered. He lost his train of thought within the light show of colours and smells around him. He could see the different shade of eye colour that were staring at him. He could smell the old wood of floor, and fabrics around him. He could hear clearly, there was no longer with invisible wall that separated his ears from the voices of those around him.   
  
That time lasted longer than it did on the train, but it still didn’t last long enough.    
  
After that, it happened over and over for many years, even during the darkest times with the Dark Lord and losing Snape, he still had these amazing and wonderful flickers.    
  
And then they were gone.    
  
Until August, 14th at 16:54 2018 when Harry Potter walked into his shop.    
  
  



	2. August 14th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August 14th!!! Also, I just want to add that this fix is going to take forever to finish because I’m a very busy person. You know, being an adult and such with bills. But, I’m trying!!!

August 14th was surprisingly a sunny, warm day. The birds were singing songs for their mates, the roads were peaceful, none of the usual hateful and busy huff and buss of a workday in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Draco was taking his usual on-foot route to his shop, taking in every different shade of black and grey. He smiled at the elderly lady that he sometimes helped with garbage, he nodded to the mail lady he passed every morning, and he even had a small conversation with the old barber just a few shops before his own.

Ten years ago Draco would have never believed a word if someone told him that he would have left Britain for Canada. He especially would not have believed such words if he was told that he would be living a content, yet colourless life, without communicating with his parents for nearly five years. Yet, this is his life now. He has not communicated with the Wizarding world for nearly half a decade, and he is at peace, perhaps even somewhat happy. 

There are no reporters following him, seeking knowledge of the Malfoys and their roll in the War.

There is no pressure of marriage and children from his mother. 

There is nothing but greys and blacks. 

Not a single soul knows exactly where he is, he made sure of that. When he first left he received an owl a few shorts months later from his Mother. She wished to see him home again soon because he was certain that this famous herbalist has plant that could cure his ailment, but that was while he was living in Toronto and it’s been many years since then.

Draco isn’t sure why he chose Canada, but he knows it was the right choice. Something told him he would find something here, and he did. It was peace that he found, something that he has been searching for since he was old enough to understand what stress is. It’s perfect here. The summers aren’t too hot, and the fall is gorgeous even without being able to see the colours everyone raves about. Of course, the winters are gross. Nothing like the postcards. They are wet, and so cold, but it is home for him now. 

“Mister Malfoy, how are you today?” 

“Hm? Oh, good morning Rose.” He says, smiling in a genuine but small way. There’s a grin on her face, he can feel it without looking at her. She loves catching him mid muse, she says it’s the only time he looks truly at ease.

“Well?”

“What?”

There’s a sigh and the softest sound of Rose kissing her teeth in frustration. “How are you?” 

Rose is his assistant of sorts. She is an aspiring painter who has apparently been a huge fan of his work for sometime, though Draco finds that hard to believe. He hasn’t released a painting to the public in over a year, and honestly doesn’t know why he keeps this shop open. 

“Fine. Yourself?” He can’t help but grumble in reply. Why does she pretend to care? She is only working with him until she finishes her art degree, and though part of him hopes she ends up staying with him he always knows she won’t. Who could stand to live life with no colour when you can see them? 

“Oh I’m great. I was given an assignment today…” She starts, pressing her lips together and a sly smirk. Rose is used to the gruffiness so he continues on past it like it’s nothing.

“Why do I not like the sound of that?” Draco sighs, eyes narrowed into silver slits as he finally turns his head to look at her. 

“Well, you see… The assignment is to study an artist…” 

“Nope.” 

“But…”

“Not a bloody chance!” 

“Come on…” 

“Rosaline, I said no.”

“Oh… I see, we’re using full names now, eh?” Rose smirks, arms crossed over her chest.

“Usually, with you, no. But on such a topic, yes.” Draco says, unlocking the shop door before he saunters in, shoulders stiff. 

He knows why she wants to study him, and he can’t exactly blame her. After all he is a famous painter across North America, but he has always refused interviews and today isn’t going to be any different. 

“Why won’t you let anyone in?” Rose says, setting her laptop bag down on the counter near the till.

It takes Draco a few minutes to answer that question, and while he knows that her question is most likely rhetorical, he finds an answer anyway. 

“Because... it is dark.” Is all he says. 

 

The rest of the day continues on like usual. Rose tries and tries to get him to open up about himself; to tell her parts of his past and why he painted like he did, but most importantly why he stopped. Of course, she doesn’t get an answer, she never does. This, per usual, ends up causing a fight between them. Pencils and paints are thrown, the odd canvas gets broken, but at some point one of them ends up chuckling while the other tries to stay angry but never succeeds. 

“I just want you to know you’re not alone, Draco.” Rose mumbles as she picks up the tossed paint pots. “I mean, I just don’t understand why you chose to live life so… lonely? You’re fucking hot as hell, man.”

That makes Draco snort. “There are reasons, Rose. My being hot as hell won’t change that.”

Rose pauses and looks at him, hands on her hips. “You mean to tell me…” she starts, her elegant eyebrow raised. “that you want to be alone because you’re colour blind?” 

“I…”

“Woooow…” she kisses her teeth again. “That’s a real shitty reason.”

If this were any other person, Draco would have most likely casted a hex on them, human or not, he couldn't care less of the consequences. “Colour blind puts the matter rather lightly, Rose.” He grits out, jaw tight.

“Well, obviously my take on it is going to be incorrect because you won’t let anyone in. So how am I supposed to empathize?”

Something about her words makes him pause for a moment, but only a moment. After all he’s a Slytherin and a Malfoy, therefore he is never without words for a response. “Why do you care? Why are you hooked up on some... washed up painter?”

Rose slaps the palm of her hand against her forehead, causing her beautiful, thick, curly hair to bounce just barely. “I’ve told you this countless time, dingus! I care because we’re friends, and as your fucking friend I want to see you happy for once. God damn, man.” 

“Friends?” That’s makes Draco chuckle. He hasn’t had friends since Hogwarts, and even then were his friends actually his friends? Blaise and Pansy are who come to his mind’s eye when the word friend is mentioned, but they weren’t actually friends now that he ponders it. Yes, they went to events together, he has always been Pansy’s go-to date for events and Blaise would invite him out to drink illegally when they were underage, but that was about it. Sometimes Pansy would reach out a bit further than Blaise, but only barely. She would ask if he was alright, but he honestly believes that it was only because he has to know everything. A honest-to-god gossip that woman is.

“Yes, friends.” Rose huffs. Draco can tell by her tone that her patience are wearing very thin. “Why do you say it like it’s a foreign word? I know you’re British and all, but I’m pretty sure that you Brits have friends over there.”

“What makes you believe that we are friends?” He says, and regrets it. “Rose…” Draco murmurs instantly, not daring to look at her. He knows by the silence that his words hurt, and he didn’t mean for them to. He just hopes that she knows that. 

“What makes me believe that?” She says softly while slowly tidying the mess from their argument earlier. “Do you really want to fucking know what makes me believe that?” Rose suddenly yells, slamming her hand down on the table, making her laptop jolt.

“Rose…”

“No, fuck off and shut up for one fucking second!”

Draco makes a face. She’s always had an unattractive vocabulary when agitated. “Language.”

“Fuck off, Draco. Or should I say ‘Drake Silver’? Yeah, fuck off, Drake Silver! You insensitive piece of British shit! Why would I ever call you a friend? I mean, It’s not like we’ve gone on dates together so we both don’t feel like lonely assholes. It’s not like you’ve cried on my shoulder many times because you miss your mom! I couldn’t imagine knowing that you’re a wizard and actually believing it. Or maybe it’s because you’ve showed me scars from battles with your ‘nemesis’ that you clearly are in love with–“

“I do not love Potter.” He interjects, fixing the clock that was knocked over. Ah, it’s 16:54 that means the very light late night art shoppers should be stopping in soon. “I can appreciate that he is slightly attractive, and rather brave to the point of idiocy, but I am not in love with hi–mmm…”

“I should hope not, Malfoy. You’re not my type. A bit too uptight.” A familiar voice says, but Draco cannot spare a moment to be surprised that he is found because he is too busy caught up in the sounds, smells and colours around him in his very own shop. “I knew it was you.” Potter says, relief in his voice.


End file.
